


Asides and Besides: Outakes from These Precious Things

by Bofursunboundbraids



Series: These Precious Things [9]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Kissing, M/M, Nightmares, images of death, post-BotFA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofursunboundbraids/pseuds/Bofursunboundbraids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where I'll put all of my curiosities and self-indulgencies related to These Precious Things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snow and Blood Before the Gate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This opens with a nightmare. It shows some deaths no one wants, but it is only a dream. I had planned on starting this where _These Precious Things_ ended, but then this happened as my way of dealing with _The Battle of the Five Armies_.
> 
> To catch you up; Smaug dead, battle won, line of Durin alive, Bilbo is a consort-to-be, and Thorin adopted the Master of Laketown's 13 year-old scullery maid. This chapter takes place in the camp set before the gates of Erebor, only about 10 days after the battle, and 3 days after Bilbo returned from the refugee camp with Edda.

Everything was white. The sky was white. The ground beneath her feet was white. Even the rocks that seemed to hem her in on either side were, for all intents and purposes, white. 

And silent.

Edda took a step and then another. The cold stung her face and her fingers were numb. 

"Papa," she called, her voice barely escaping her throat which seemed to freeze over the moment her mouth opened. A tear, as much from fear as from the cold, ran down her cheek leaving an icy trail. She cupped her hands around her mouth.

"Papa!" She listened. Nothing. She peered hard into the blankness of the white before her. She could feel her tears freezing on her lashes. With every ounce of power in her skinny frame she threw down her arms and screamed...

"PAPA!!!" 

Suddenly, from behind and overhead, came the loud, slapping beat of wings and the shrill call of a bird. Edda looked up to see a large black bird, a raven, sail quickly past. She took chase after the dark messenger, whose call seemed to say 'follow' even though it sounded much more like a screech. She ran as fast as she could, despite the burning of the cold in her lungs and the ground which seemed to give little traction as if it were nothing but ice. The dark shape quickly faded into the distance, and Edda, exhausted, gave up the chase, and bent over, her hands on her knees, her breathing ragged, her eyes closed.

When her pounding heart slowed to a less painful rhythm, she opened her eyes. And there, on the ground, were drops of color. Red on the endless white. She bent down and put a fingertip to one of the drops. It smeared and she brought it to her face, her nose, and she could smell the metallic tang of blood. A shock of fear took her and she shrieked and quickly wiped her finger off on her skirt. The remaining drops led away, forming a gruesome path. She didn't want to know whose blood this was, but another quick look around still showed that she was encased in a world of ice and cold, so she followed reluctantly.

With every few feet, it seemed the trail of blood grew; the drops became more numerous, the size of the drops, larger. She continued until, in the distance, veiled by a white fog, she could make out a dark shape on the ground. For some reason, she knew not why, she called out, but this time her voice was tiny and she heard tears she didn't know she was crying.

" _Papa_?"

And then she heard it; a cry, a wail, a sound of loss, of a heart shattering. She knew the voice. She knew whose it was. Frozen in place, she didn't want to get any closer but needed to be there...for they needed her. 

"BILBO!" she screamed and finally her feet found the traction to get her to the dark mass on the ground. And when it finally came into focus, she could only skid to an uneasy stop just feet away. The red drops had now become a mass; a large, smeared puddle and in the midst of it...

Edda shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming.

She would've known those boots anywhere. She remembered brushing the mud from them the morning he left for the mountain. From boots to chain mail and leather, blood covered everything. And she forced herself to look past the gaping wound of the stomach, higher...until...

At first she didn't recognize the face and she felt relief. It was bloody and cut, a large gash sliced down the right side, but then she scolded herself for being a hopeful fool, for who could forget those eyes...of the very bluest blue and the way they sparkled when he smiled at her...that magnificent glow when he was looking at his hobbit...and she knew. She knew it was Thorin.

Edda moved to his side and the leaden weight in her chest dragged her to the ground, tears flowing free and she no longer cared if they froze on her face...she didn't care if she froze to death in this place. Thorin was dead and she no longer wanted to know a world, or her life, without him in it. There was a smothered moan.

"Bilbo," she whispered, reaching out a hand to the small body curled around Thorin's head, his face buried in the silken grey waves. "Bilbo...I'm so sorry..." she managed to choke out, her throat tight and raw and her lower lip wobbling. She laid her hand on his shoulder, the blue velvet of his coat as soft as she had remembered. She leaned over and placed a kiss on his curly head, but he took no notice, his body shuddering as it exhausted itself of his grief. Edda then looked upon the face of the dwarf, looking into his eyes for one last time. They were still blue but all life was gone and she found it awful to look at.

"Bilbo...I have to...I'm going to close his eyes. Do you want to look at them a last time?" 

Bilbo lifted his head slowly, but did not look at her. "No," he whispered, shaking his head, "those aren't his eyes. Thorin's eyes were alive and so bright..." He placed a tender kiss on his dead lover's forehead before laying his own head back down. Edda took a deep breath and, like she had witnessed so many times in those days after the dragon, she placed her fingertips on Thorin's eyelids and slid them shut. His long lashes tickled and she bit her lip and sucked in a sob. Then, with her hands on either side of his face, she placed a kiss on his cheek and the tip of his nose and now, with the taste of his blood on her tongue, she spoke against his parted lips, 

"I will always love you, papa." 

And whatever strength she had left in her body vanished completely and she laid herself down on the ice next to the dwarf king who had, for a brief shining moment, been the moon and sun to her. She laid her head on his chest.

"He loved you, sweet pea."

Edda raised her head at the sound of Bilbo's voice.

"Bilbo..."

"He didn't want to leave us, but he had no choice." Bilbo's face was still buried in Thorin's hair and his voice was muffled, but there was also an odd crackle to it.

"Who did this? Did he kill them?"

Bilbo nodded his head slowly, "He killed the evil thing that had taken everything from him. But this kind of revenge comes at a price. A sacrifice must always be made in the end."

Edda shook her head, angry tears burned, "That's not fair! Why should he have to die? It was his turn to be happy! With you! And...he promised me...HE PROMISED!" she now yelled at the little hobbit. 

"Blame me, Edda."

The girl stopped short, "Blame...why should I blame you?"

"The dragon is dead."

"I know...I saw it fall..."

"I should've died...no one talks to a dragon and survives. Not even the luck-wearer."

"But you did!"

"At what cost?"

"Stop it...don't say that...don't say you're the reason Thorin's gone."

Bilbo slowly pulled his head away from its nest in Thorin's hair and sat up. When his eyes met Edda's they were red-rimmed and a glossy, muddied green. "I can't go on without him," he whispered, and Edda gasped as she noticed that an odd glow seemed to build within him. His skin went from a ghostly pale, to pink, to red...

His voice a mere crackle like fire splitting wood, "All those people, my sweet Edda...I should've died." 

And Edda watched as the hobbit was slowly consumed by an inferno from within. His skin bubbled and cracked, turned black; his hair going up in a poof. When the fire had consumed everything and burned out, the charred remains fell back, not much more than a black smudge on the ice. Edda looked from what had once been the kindest soul to her once-upon-a-time king and, from the very bottom of her being, a scream was released and sent to curse the angels who would destroy all the beautiful things in this world.

And she screamed.

* * *

"Edda! Come on, sweet pea, wake up...please!"

Bilbo was on his knees beside the girl, one hand shaking her shoulder, the other cupping her face. She seemed to be trapped in a nightmare she could not escape from.

"Bilbo, what's wrong?" Thorin, alone in his own bed, still recovering from the wounds he suffered in battle, struggled to raise himself.

"It must be a nightmare...lie back down! Edda, come on, wake up...Ed...come on now...Edda...sweet girl...it's me...it's Bilbo...everything's...awww that's it." 

"Bilbo!" Edda came fully awake and gasped, "You're ok!" Her hands were on his face and in his hair. "You're not..." she held him back by his shoulders and looked him over. "You're not burned" she cried as she pulled him to her. Bilbo wrapped his arms around her, "No no...no one's burned...shhhh...we're all safe..."

"Papa!" the young girl's head shot up "Papa...where is..." And frantically she searched, in the low light of the tent.

"Edda, I'm here...Thorinul..." Thorin's words were pinched as he struggled to breathe, his wounds still too great to allow him to move from the bed. 

Edda pressed a kiss to Bilbo's temple and slid off the bed they shared. Thorin held an arm out to her. "Come..." Fingers entwined as he pulled her down to lay beside him. She melded into him, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He cooed soft words into her hair as she cried. 

"Do not cry, my girl, my Thorinul...no...no more need for that, all is well. Tell me what has frightened you and I will chase it away...please tell me." 

It took Edda a few harsh, shuddering breaths before she could speak coherently. And even then it was slow to come.

"It was all white..."

Bilbo had joined them, sitting on the edge of Thorin's bed. He laid his hand on Edda's hip, a gentle presence. "What was it, sweet pea?"

Edda shook her head, effectively rubbing tears and snot onto Thorin's bare chest, "I don't know...it was a place...there was ice and it was cold." She raised her head, watery blue eyes huge in her pale face. She reached her hand up to trail her fingers over the scabs and bruises on Thorin's cheek. "I was calling for you, but there was no one. Then there was a black bird and I followed and..." her lower lip wobbled as her face crumpled, "there was blood on the ground and...you," she fisted her hand in Thorin's hair , "you were dead. All cold and gone. And then Bilbo burned up, just like...just like...the dra...dra..." 

A shock of ice flooded Bilbo's body at the girl's words. She had seen him burn as if by dragon's fire and Thorin battered, bloody and dead. He patted Edda gently and leaned over to nuzzle and speak softly into her ear.

"Shhhh...Edda...nothing's going to hurt us...nothing's going...to..." and as hard as he tried, he could not keep the tears from his eyes and his voice and he pressed his mouth to her shoulder, his eyes finding Thorin's and both of them knew. This was not a pain that would be gone tomorrow. This horror that they had survived- and so many had not- would be with them...ready to scare a young girl in her sleep...keep a king awake long into the night wondering if his birthright is his right...make a hobbit wonder why he is still alive. 

" _Ghivashel_ ," Thorin whispered. "Forgive me." He mouthed those two words so the girl wouldn't hear. Bilbo smiled, wiping his tears away with the heel of his palm, 

"Shhhh...now," Bilbo's eyes stayed locked on Thorin's as he placed a kiss on Edda's shoulder. The girl rolled over to face him. She smeared a tear across his already wet cheek. 

"We're the lucky ones."

Bilbo nodded, his hand landing on hers and he placed a kiss in the middle of her palm. "Yes we are, sweet pea; very, very lucky." He looked from Edda, and the still angry burn on her face, to Thorin who was still alive despite all the torn flesh...and yes they were extremely lucky. And luck is nothing to be either taken for granted nor turned away from. "Now," he sniffled to signify that no more tears should be shed that night, "how about some tea, hmm? I know I could use a cup."

Edda nodded vigorously, "yes, please" and moved as if to get up, but Bilbo gently pushed her back down. "No...stay with Thorin and keep him warm."

"Alright," a wide smile graced her lips and she turned back over, her adoptive father pulling her as close as his wounds would allow.

Bilbo went, his body as tired as it had ever been, his feet heavy, to the small stove that sat in their tent, giving off a surprising amount of heat for its size. He checked the fire and then put a kettle on to boil. As he waited he wished he had a bottle of his Uncle Hildibrand's apricot brandy so he could toss a splash or two in Edda's tea to help her sleep - and a stiff belt for himself and surely Thorin could use one as well.

And then he remembered that little fantasy he had conjured (what feels like an entire lifetime ago but no...not yet a fortnight) at the gate, when it was all beginning to go so wrong. There had been Bag End, as snug as ever; Edda happy and safe in her bed, and Thorin bare and beautiful in theirs. It had seemed a dream beyond wishing for, but now...

Bilbo cast his eyes in the direction of the two people he loved more than anything else in the world. He could hear them speaking softly. He didn't try to listen, for he knew that they needed words that only belonged to the two of them, father and daughter. And he couldn't help but giggle at the thought. This dwarf, a king from a long and noble line, and this mortal girl, an orphan with no claim to any greatness, were forming a bond that would not break for all the remaining days of their lives. Thorin lifted his head at the happy sound.

"I prefer your laughter to your tears."

The hobbit gave another little laugh and nodded, "I'll do what I can to accommodate you." And then he blushed due to the other way those words could be taken. This was not lost on Thorin.

"And I you, _ghivashel_."

Bilbo was thankful the teapot chose that moment to whistle, and he went to work preparing tea for his new family.

His family.

The very word thundered in him. Thorin and Edda, they were his family now and it no longer mattered to him where they were; Erebor, The Shire, even Mirkwood (although he prayed it never came to that)...wherever they were, he would be, and **that** would be home, with everything that came with it, the good and the bad. And right now home was an unusually comfortable tent of elvish make, warm and dry, and the tea was ready.

"Tea is up, my loves! Edda, can you he..." but Edda was already helping Thorin to sit up and wrapping a blanket about his shoulders. She took one mug from Bilbo and blew across the surface of the steaming liquid before handing it with much caution ("be careful, papa, it's very hot!") to Thorin. Then she settled back against the pillows, next to him, and took her own mug from Bilbo. He settled himself on the edge of the bed, facing them, and they drank their tea and talked of happier things, silly things, until they all wore smiles and their cups were empty. When they were finished, Bilbo collected the cups and went about straightening the sheets on his and Edda's bed.

"Bilbo...no, don't do that." Thorin said. "I want you with me, both of you. I am done with lying alone, away from you."

"But your wounds...love, you're still healing." Bilbo dropped the sheet in his hand and looked at Thorin. Edda was nodding her head, her smile huge.

"Please Bilbo, it'll be fine. I'll take this side, you on his other. He'll be so well protected. No harm will come to him," she pressed her back against Thorin's side, her feet tangling with his beneath the covers, "and he's so warm."

Bilbo knew exactly how warm Thorin could be, he'd spent a lovely day watching the snow fall while pressed against that warmth. And he had missed it terribly.

" _Ghivashel_..." Thorin said, a hint of a plea in that one word.

It could hardly be considered giving in, Bilbo thought, since he'd truthfully had no intention of saying no. This time he helped Thorin slide back down under the fine, down-filled blankets, topped with a fur throw, before sliding underneath them himself. And, for the first time since Laketown, his body touched Thorin's in this way. He laid his head on his chest and was gifted with the steady beat of that glorious heart under his ear. Taking a deep breath, he let his body relax into that warmth. And he smiled when a kiss was pressed to the top of his head.

"Thank you," Thorin whispered, his breath playing in Bilbo's curls.

Bilbo pressed a kiss to Thorin's chest and snuggled in even closer, "I've missed this."

"Mmmm...so have I." Thorin's voice rumbled pleasantly under BIlbo's head.

Both their heads were turned at the sound of a girlish giggle followed by exaggerated kissing noises.

"Are you mocking us, Thorinul?" Thorin tried for stern but fell somewhat short.

Edda flopped over, beaming a wide grin, "Yes!" And she popped up, kissing them both in quick succession before throwing herself back down. "Goodnight papa. Goodnight Bilbo. Dream only happy thoughts until morning comes." They could hear her yawn widely as she stretched her body out long, her feet tucked back between Thorin's.

Thorin and Bilbo both wished her pleasant dreams and finally let the last bit of tension drain from their bodies as they melted into one another.

"Sleep well, _ghivashel_." Thorin muttered softly.

Bilbo gently tapped Thorin's chest, "I will, love. I will now. And you..."

"Yes, I will."

Bilbo listened to Thorin's breathing steadily fall into that of sleep before he himself fell into slumber. So deep it was that he remembered no dreams in the morning, but that was really quite ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did not expect to take so long to get back to this so I am extremely grateful to a certain movie, and the subsequent heartbreak, for giving me a much needed kick in the butt. As I said at the beginning, this chapter was purely an act of catharsis. The next one will begin right where I left everyone at the end of part 8 of _These Precious Things_. If you haven't read that...I've been told it's decent (with some sexytimes if that's your thing).
> 
> I am on the [tumblr](http://bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com), so come cry about Bagginshield and acorns and parallels or whatever with me!!


	2. A Kiss From A Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beside her came a shift and a sigh. Her eyes flew open again and NOW she was awake. On the pillow beside her lay a mess of honey-gold curls, all round and soft, spilling from beneath the very same blanket that kept a hold on her. A single lock bounced about on gentle breaths that escaped from pursed lips. Edda slid closer. Under the blankets she reached out with her foot, finally encountering another, albeit much furrier than her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place, in Thorin's tent, that first morning after Bilbo and Edda arrive at the camp.
> 
> Just a super fluffy image that's been stuck in my head for a good long while.

Edda wiggled her toes and smiled. She was warm...so, SO warm. Her body felt as if it were caught in the embrace of a cloud, its arms wrapped about her like a blanket, leaving her unable to move and content to just be.

She raised an eye-lid. What a silly girl she was! Of course it was a blanket and she lay in a bed, not a cloud. But it was the softest and the warmest bed she had ever slept in. She snuggled down deeper into the covers and opened her two eyes wide open. Light poured in, not bright and blinding but low and soft.

Listening to the sounds of the camp, already awake at this very early hour of the new day, Edda heard muffled footfalls and voices seemed to drop in mid-air.

"It must be snowing!" her happy brain cried silently. She wanted terribly to jump up and run out and see for herself a world covered in sugar frosting and all that was left of the bloody war buried beneath a brilliant blanket of white. But a blanket lay on her, weighted her down, and any fight she had in her to throw it off gave up before it even thought to stir.

 **RUMBLE**! It began low, in the very pit of her stomach and it rolled through her skinny frame; painfully, in the tightest places. She recalled all the wonderful things the elven king had offered her the night before. He hadn't even scolded when she ate the cake full of spiced apples and candied walnuts before taking even one bite of roasted beef! And right now...how she would love a plate overflowing with thick ham and fried eggs and hot buns and honey and...

 **RUMBLE! RUMBLE**!! These new exclamations were louder and much more insistent. 

"NO!" She whispered a stern reprimand to her complaining stomach. "You'll just have to wait a little bit longer, but I promise you won't be disappointed." She smiled and let her body sink into the flannel and down, eyes shutting out the new morning.

Beside her came a shift and a sigh. Her eyes flew open again and NOW she was awake. On the pillow beside her lay a mess of honey-gold curls, all round and soft, spilling from beneath the very same blanket that kept a hold on her. A single lock bounced about on gentle breaths that escaped from pursed lips. Edda slid closer. Under the blankets she reached out with her foot, encountering another, albeit much furrier than her own.

And Edda watched Bilbo sleep. She knew this must be the first night he'd spent in a proper bed since they had all been together in Laketown. Since those few, wonderful days at the Master's hall, weeks before, when a dwarf king, ready to reclaim his right, had walked out of one of her tales of romance and offered her hope beyond knowing. And this creature, now laying pretty and peaceful beside her, had showed her kindness she hadn't known since she'd been a small child with a mother singing songs by a blazing hearth and a father pulling fat, silver fish from the lake. She moved even closer, her face just inches from his, her breath joining in the play amongst the curls.

She remembered that first night, in Laketown, when she had asked Thorin if she could kiss Bilbo's cheek, her careless tongue guessing it would taste of apples. But Thorin had only smiled and welcomed this gift to his lover and no, he hadn't tasted of apples, that was foolish to even think, but kissing him had been like pressing her lips to a sun-warmed peach along with something unknown, deeper and spicy, under the skin. She now took a deep breath through her nose. He was clean, smelling of the flowers that had been in the bath water, and warm...

Inching even closer, Edda pressed her lips to Bilbo's. They were exceptionally soft, like the petals of a rose, and they molded to hers and she took a deep breath through her nose. They had, the hobbit and she, travelled very far to get to this point. To this calm...this peace. It had only been the previous morning when they had awakened in the back of a wagon, clutching to each other for warmth. He had been quiet for most of the trip up the mountain and had seemed sad to her. How could he have been sad when Thorin had been waiting for him? She wondered if she would ever have an answer to the mystery of what had happened between them. What could've been so bad that Bilbo hadn't wanted to go to Thorin, had barely wanted to lay his eyes upon him? She kissed her sweetest of friends again. And he kissed her back. 

"Good morning, my Mister Baggins," Edda greeted the hobbit and followed it with another kiss... and another.

"Good morning, Miss Edda," Bilbo combed her hair back away from her face and kissed her forehead. She giggled.

"That," spoke a gravelly, sleepy voice, "is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard."

Bilbo propped himself up on an elbow. "And which sound is that, Thorin?" 

"The sound of my heart's treasures falling in love with one another."

Edda flopped herself onto her back and exclaimed, "I am so desperately in love!"

Bilbo laughed out loud, "Am I lucky enough to have captured your heart?"

"Yes!" Edda blurted and pecked him on his nose. "I adore you! And Thorin, my darling! And this blanket...and this pillow! And breakfast!" The girl sat bolt upright. "Shall I fetch breakfast?"

"Surely, it can be brought to us. I would hate for you to go out into that cold." Bilbo said, having very little inclination to move, much less to traipse across a winter cold camp. And he didn't want the girl to feel that she had to act as a servant any longer.

"I don't mind at all. Besides, I think it may be snowing," Edda bounced in place. "Anyway, I don't trust anyone to bring what is best. Only I can do that."

"Indeed?" Bilbo queried and Thorin laughed. At that glorious sound, Edda launched herself from the bed and hurried over to the dwarf's bedside. 

"Good morning, dear girl," Thorin smiled at her. She threw her arms around him as best she could and placed a kiss over his heart.

"Good morning, my king! And what would you love most this morning?"

"A kiss and a smile from my beautiful girl, and," Thorin looked past Edda to where Bilbo sat, the silvery silk of his nightshirt sliding down over one smooth, pale shoulder, "from my ghivashel."

Edda kissed Thorin and brushed her fingers through his hair, leaving it fanned out on the pillow. A hand fell gently upon her shoulder and Bilbo stood beside her. She left Thorin's side, leaving it for the hobbit to take, and she busied herself with putting on a pair of thick, woolen hose and shearling boots. Over it all she donned a fur-lined robe and, picking up the basket she had used to carry dinner in the night before, she looked back at her beloved hobbit and dwarf. She was going to announce her intention to leave and fetch their breakfast but, instead, she watched Bilbo sink into the warmth of Thorin's embrace. Thick, dwarf fingers wove through the hair on the back on Bilbo's head, pulling him down into a deep kiss. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight.

Quietly she walked to the tent flap. Stepping outside, an icy wind blew past her and she pulled the robe closer about herself. It was snowing! The camp lay under its own thick blanket. A snowflake landed on her nose and it tickled, causing a shiver to run through her from the center of her being to the tips of her toes and fingers. For half a second she considered running back inside, returning to her warm bed, but then she spied an elf in the distance, the very same one who had provided hot baths and bed and boots the night before. In his hand she saw a basket not unlike the one in her own hand. But quite unlike hers, his was overflowing...with what, she could only imagine! Waving her hand in greeting, she hurried along the path that had been carved out in the snow by many pairs of feet, much larger than her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did steal the title from the song by [Seal](https://youtu.be/ateQQc-AgEM). I've loved it for ages and it's on my Bagginshield playlist. And me with my thing for Bilbo's lips, well...it was bound to happen.


End file.
